


Standing on the Landing with the War You Shouldered All the Night Before

by Mrs-BobbiWinchester (Skyeward_captasha)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Episode: s01e06 FZZT, Eating Disorders, Gen, Jemma has an eating disorder, Purging, seriously dudes be careful this is some dark shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13267041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyeward_captasha/pseuds/Mrs-BobbiWinchester
Summary: Jemma Simmons has an eating disorder. It starts after the events of 1x06 (FZZT) and escalates from there. This is definitely AU and 100% me projecting my issues onto fictional characters.





	1. Something They Can Never Take Away

Nobody really noticed that Jemma stopped eating. It wasn’t even gradual; they were just unobservant. After the Chitauri virus and what would be classed as a suicide attempt by anybody not in their line of work, she just couldn’t stomach anything more than a few nibbles here and there. Whenever anybody asked, she’d shoo them away under the excuse that she was “working on something important” and “couldn’t leave the lab for at least another hour.” That worked... for awhile. 

The first person to notice was Fitz, of course. It started with little things like “Hey, Simmons. Sandwich?” since they’d often eat together when she made him his favorite sandwich and “Simmons, let’s go eat with the team.” She worked around those for as long as she could, but she could only use work as an excuse so many times. Eventually she resorted to claiming illness, which backfired in that it only made him more worried about her. 

She dragged her heels as he walked up the stairs from the lab, all while keeping a constant three paces ahead of her, which was opposite of how they usually moved—in perfect sync. She gagged on nearly every bite, feeling disgusted with herself for even thinking about eating this much. In reality, it was half of what anybody else would call a portion, but she couldn’t see that right now. To try and make the food look as unappetizing as she could while still forcing herself to eat it, she poked at it with her fork and pushed it around her plate in a weak effort to make it look like she’d eaten more than she had. 

Fitz paid no mind to her once he’d finished his sandwich, and he went back down to the lab to resume work on his “bloody riveting” project from earlier that day. 

That left Jemma in an uncomfortable position. Did she want to go back down to the lab and work? Or did she want to throw up everything she’d just eaten? The logical part of her brain paired with the paranoid part argued that she should go back to work since the team would get concerned if they heard her throwing up, but she ignored it while she shoved her fingers down her throat. It was painful and messy and arduous, and she promised herself she’d never get to a point where she had to resort to that ever again. 

She laid down that night after dinner with her heating pad on her stomach to hopefully ease some of the pain from her almost-failed attempt at purging her lunch—and then her dinner, which had gone much better since she had a vague idea of what she was doing—and the ever-constant hunger pangs.


	2. Like Sadness, You Just Sail Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward and Coulson kinda confront Simmons in this chapter. angsty af

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for more projection of my issues onto simmons lol

It was a few more days and multiple missed meals before anybody else noticed. Her clothes were beginning to hang off of her previously slim frame that was now looking quite gaunt, and her collarbones were poking out where they shouldn’t be.

The next person to say anything to her was Ward. He wasn’t nearly as subtle about it as Fitz was and threatened to tell Coulson and May if she didn’t at least try to maintain her weight. That resulted in an argument, like most everything did with her lately. Not eating as much as she should was beginning to have an effect on her mood.

“Simmons, you’re putting everyone on this team at risk, and I won’t stand for it. We can’t have a team member collapse in the middle of a firefight. If you don’t get your act together, I’m telling May.” He set a granola bar on the table in front of her beside a protein shake that she couldn’t even think about drinking without wanting to throw up.

She groaned softly and dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets in frustration, where they stayed for almost fifteen minutes while she worked herself up to the point of tears over the food in front of her.

Ward noticed and sat down across from her, waiting there for her to take a bite or a sip. She did neither, and he left to get May. She was busy flying the plane, however, so he had to settle for Coulson.

He came down and took in everything at once: Simmons sitting at the table with her head in her hands, the small shakes of her body as she wept, and how scarily thin she’d become.

She noticed his presence in the room and sat up straight, wiped her tears away, and moved to open the package of the granola bar. Her hands were shaking, and it was only partly from low blood sugar.

Coulson reached out and grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her from eating anything yet. “Take some deep breaths. We’re not going to make you eat the whole thing, just part of it. You need to eat a lot more than this if you’re going to go on any field assignments, though. We don’t want our best biochemist collapsing in the middle of her work, now, do we?” He smiled slightly and tried to make her feel a little better so she might eat willingly. 

She sniffled and used her fingers to tear off a corner of the granola bar. Entire body trembling, she popped it in her mouth and chewed for an uncomfortably long time before swallowing. She started crying again and forced herself to take another bite. She was convinced that she could somehow feel herself getting fatter with each miniscule bite, but she finished eventually. 

She got up, forced herself to thank Coulson and Ward even though she wanted to stab them both for sabotaging her weight loss, and put on a smile until she got to the bathroom. Once inside, she completely fell apart. Propped up against the cabinet under the sink, she sobbed into her hands and slammed her fists into the floor for an outlet of her emotions. 

Coulson and Ward stood outside the door, worry in their eyes and on their faces. “Sir, what do we do? Let her cry it out and take her back to her bunk? Force her out and risk causing more damage to her psyche?” Ward ran his fingers through his hair and waited for Coulson to acknowledge that he’d said something and respond. 

“Let’s let her have a minute. I don’t want to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” He walked away, leaving Ward alone to worry about the woman he considered to be a little sister.


	3. She's Imperfect, but She Tries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty confrontation pt. 2

Coulson slung his suit jacket over his forearm and rushed up the stairs in the hangar to his office, where May was sitting in a chair across from his desk with a mug of tea in both her hands. 

She took a sip and set it down on the coaster next to his globe, taking in every emotion on his face: worry, fear, compassion, and a bit of anger--mostly at himself for not realizing that one of his agents was struggling so much. 

He sighed frustratedly and held onto the edge of his desk so hard his fingers turned white. “She’s probably 100 pounds, May. How didn’t I notice?” He closed his eyes and let her get up and stand behind him so he could feel someone near. 

“Nobody noticed. It’s not your fault.” 

“She knows all the risks, yet she’s still doing it. Someone has to intervene.” 

May nodded slowly and finished off her tea before leaving to go check on Simmons. She knocked on the younger woman’s bunk door, not surprised when she answered with a huge, fake, smile plastered on her face. There was only so much a smile could do to hide her red, puffy, eyes, however, and May took no time at all forcing Simmons down to the lab so she could take her vitals. 

“Simmons, clothes off, gown on. Get on the scale, back towards me.” May handed Jemma a gown with a tie in the front and turned away so she could change. When Jemma stepped on the scale, it took all May had in her not to change expression to match the shock she felt inside. 

Jemma turned around and looked at the number in front of her toes, gasping softly. She’d hit her goal weight, but it still didn’t feel like enough. She felt huge, as if she would break a chair if she sat on it or get stuck in a doorway if she didn’t turn her body to the side. 

May took her wrist and led her to the lab bench, where she took her pulse and blood pressure. Her blood pressure was high, her heart rate was about 55, and she looked pale and shaky. Melinda shuffled through the cabinets around the room, grabbed an IV kit and a couple of bags of saline, and got Simmons started with a peripheral line. 

“May, I really don’t need this. Why are you being so twitchy?” She groaned and pulled a pillow over her face to muffle her noises. “I know about dietetics and nutrition, May. This is completely unnecessary.” 

“Bullshit. You’re 96 pounds, Jemma. You know that’s not healthy.” May taped her IV to her arm so she couldn’t pull it out without lots of effort. 

Jemma groaned again and sat up straighter so she could project her voice and hopefully seem more put-together and not like she was currently starving herself to death. “So what if I want to lose a little weight? I’m just being healthier, May. It isn’t that big of a deal!” She tried to get up, but May glared at her with such force that she decided it was in her best interest to stay put. 

May got her another pillow and a blanket so she’d at least be comfortable while they tried to get her rehydrated. When she got back, Jemma was sound asleep with her legs tucked under the rest of her body, subconsciously protecting herself. 

She sighed and left the room soundlessly, going back to the cockpit to fly for a while to take her mind off of the young girl currently asleep in the lab from lack of proper nourishment.


	4. Would They Like What They Saw? Or Would They Hate it Too?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation pt 3. Intervention is staged, causing drama.

Simmons woke up a couple of hours later and got up, changed out her bag of fluids, and hooked up to a second one so she could at least regain enough strength to work on some of her current side projects. She finished it up and unhooked herself from the IV, wincing when the tegaderm pulled at her skin as she removed it. 

Fitz came into the lab right as Jemma was plastering a bandage over the spot where she’d had the IV in. “Simmons,” he said surprisedly, his mouth falling open. “You’re up. Where have you been?” 

“Sleeping. I was exhausted and accidentally fell asleep at the table, so May made me take a long snooze,” she lied easily and forced a smile. 

“Oh. Okay.” He didn’t want to be the one to question her and force her to admit that she had a problem, which she wouldn’t do even if somebody held her at gunpoint and told her to admit she had an eating disorder. She’d lie and say that she was in love with Fitz before she said that she purposefully starved herself to the point of fainting while working. 

He took his place at her side by the Holotable and started manipulating the plans for their latest weapons system to figure out where he could make improvements to it. She was working with the chemical formula for the dendrotoxin that they used in the Night-Night gun and was trying to find a way to make it more concentrated so that they could use less of it and get the same results. 

They worked in comfortable silence until Jemma’s stomach growled, which caught Fitz off guard. “Simmons, you need to eat. This isn’t up for debate.” 

“I’ll eat as soon as I’ve finished this; I promise.” She forced a smile and went back to work, her hands shaking from low blood sugar. 

He didn’t call her out for her blatant lies, but he did make her go up to the kitchen with him after they’d both reached a reasonable stopping point. He made them some tea and a plate of vegetables with ranch dip--the recipe for which he’d gotten from her mother. 

She forced herself to eat a normal amount of the carrot and celery sticks that they’d cut up, had a sip of tea between each bite, and then excused herself. She panicked in the bathroom for a minute before kneeling down on the floor and shoving her fingers down her throat. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t resort to this again, but she felt that throwing up her food was a preferable feeling to the uncomfortable fullness in her stomach. 

Somewhere deep inside, she knew that the meager 100 calories she’d eaten weren’t enough to make her gain weight, but that part of her brain wasn’t in control at the moment. The part of her brain that was controlling her thoughts and actions was screaming at her to push her fingers further down her throat, eat even less than she already was, and shut herself in her room. 

Once she finished, she got up, flushed the toilet, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was ashy, and the bags under her eyes were darker than she was comfortable with. She covered them with a concealer a couple of shades too light to perfectly match her skin tone so that she’d look more awake. When she was finally ready to rejoin the team, she was met with the other five of them sitting in the common area, seemingly waiting for her to arrive. 

“Um… What’s going on?” She asked nervously, her eyes flitting from person to person. She couldn’t bear to make eye contact with any of them, so she looked awkwardly at the space right next to their left ear each time. 

“Take a seat,” Coulson said quietly and gestured to the seat that they’d left open right between himself and Skye. “We just want to talk to you.” 

She resigned herself to her fate and took her place between her best female friend and boss. “Sir, what about?” 

“I think you know what about,” Ward interjected. He was clearly more upset about this than everyone else. He could tell she’d just thrown up what little food she’d eaten all day by how unsteady she’d been walking in, the pallor of her skin, and her bloodshot eyes. “Don’t play dumb.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said stubbornly and crossed her arms over her chest. 

That earned her a glare from practically everyone in the room. Skye, however, burst into tears and had to leave. She’d barely been able to hold it together when Coulson had told her what Jemma was doing to herself, but seeing the lengths to which she was willing to go to hide it was so much worse. 

Jemma coughed softly and rubbed her eyes where they itched from the irritation her purging had caused. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.” She shrugged and coughed some more, eventually reaching the point where May got up and brought her back a glass of water. 

Ward started listing things he’d noticed about her in the past several weeks that were serious red flags for an eating disorder: “Bloodshot eyes and throat irritation from self-induced vomiting, pale skin, irritable, mood swings, denying that there’s any sort of problem, exercising excessively, low heart rate, dramatic weight loss, strange attitude around food. Textbook definition of Anorexia Nervosa.” His voice got quieter as he went on until it was barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t have a problem!” She insisted, laughing at the absurdity of the situation she’d found herself in. She’d been so careful… how could this happen? 

“Jemma, we just want to help.” May handed her a tissue and took a seat next to her on the couch. “Please let us help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed the pattern in chapter titles? There is one; I promise.


	5. I’ll be There in Just a Minute, Save My Plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the intervention, ft dad!coulson. Not her actual dad, just a father figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The title is ironic I’M SORRY but like she doesn’t eat and a broadway lyric about food that’s not from waitress? I had to jump on it)

Nobody knew quite what to expect after that, but they certainly hadn’t planned on her laughing so hard she cried. “I’m fine, I promise. I don’t know what all of you are on about.” She got up, wrapped her hand around her wrist, and rubbed her fingers over the bones there. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Coulson got up and followed her down to the lab, where she immediately got to work again. “Did you need something, sir?” She asked while she pulled her gloves on after putting her hair up in a ponytail.

“I need you to be honest with yourself. You’re killing yourself by doing this.”

“What?” She chuckled awkwardly. She still couldn’t believe that they were confronting her about this.

_They’re lying. You’re not thin. If anything, you’ve gained weight in the past week. That granola bar he made you eat? Dripping in fat. The vegetable dip Fitz made for you? Filled with calories. They’re saying that you’re thin to make fun of you for being such a whale. They’re concerned that you’re going to die of type 2 diabetes because of your weight, not that your heart will stop from malnutrition._

“Can we sit down in my office? I’ll make you some tea and we can talk about this.” He reached out to her and very gingerly rested his hand on her shoulder.

“Politely, sir, there’s nothing to discuss.” Her voice wavered halfway through her statement, making it that much harder to believe her.

“You and I both know that there is. Come on.” He reached out and turned the holotable off, effectively stopping her work.

“Okay.” She removed her gloves, taking one off with the other, and threw them away before taking her hair out of the ponytail she’d put it in not five minutes earlier.

Coulson let her go up to his office first while he made a stop in the kitchen to start the electric kettle for her tea. He brought it up to her and set the mug down on the coaster in front of her on his desk. “No milk or sugar--just how you like it.”

She picked the navy blue mug up and held it with both hands while she took a small sip.

“When was the last time you ate something?” He asked as he twiddled with the ballpoint pen in his hands.

“This morning,” she lied.

“What’d you have?”

“Oh, uh… some fruit. Strawberries and blueberries, actually. They were quite spectacular.”

“You really are a terrible liar.”

“What? I’m not lying. You can’t even trust me to tell you when last I ate?” She scoffed and had another sip of her tea, the liquid sloshing in the mug from the way her hands were trembling. They did that a lot lately.

“I wish I could, Jemma.” He sighed sadly and set his pen down on his desk. “You’re not being honest with anyone else on this team, not even yourself. This is becoming a serious problem.”

“Fine. Maybe I do have... a slight issue. But it’s just a diet gone wrong. I’ll go off of it and be just as new in a week.” She finished her tea and got up, grabbing her boss’s mug as well.

Coulson let her leave. He wasn’t up for trying to convince her that this really was a serious problem that she had. Besides, she wouldn’t recover unless she wanted to. Until then, everything they did would be futile.

 

 

 


	6. I'd Rather Pretend I'm Something Other Than These Broken Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She’s just a kid,” Ward said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 
> 
> All May did was nod, but that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way darker than the rest of it has been, so I'm sorry. I've been struggling lately, so Jemma will too.

Jemma let the soapy water run between her fingers as she washed the mugs and then set them on the drying rack, thumbing over her middle finger idly as she watched the water drip off the drying ceramic. Her thoughts began to overwhelm her, spreading out until there wasn’t a place in her brain left untouched. 

 

_ He lied about the tea. He probably loaded it with extra calories to fatten you up, though you don’t need any help with that. You’re probably carrying 20 pounds of water weight… disgusting. You need to go get rid of some of it.  _

 

She snuck away to the bathroom and let herself start crying, her mascara staining her cheeks as she washed her hands. She wasn’t about to risk becoming actually ill by sticking her fingers in her mouth after she’d been working in the lab earlier. She got down in front of the toilet and ignored the aching in her bruised knees as she very carefully put her fingers just far enough in her mouth to trigger her gag reflex and get her to throw up. 

 

She got up once she’d reached the point where all she was throwing up was stomach acid, her knees shaking as she forced herself to go over to the sink and wash her hands. She noticed the redness and irritation on the tops of her knuckles, which the doctor in her knew was Russell’s sign from the frequency with which she was purging. She dabbed some polysporin on the spots where she’d scraped some skin off with her teeth and covered them with a fabric bandage, already thinking of excuses she’d use if anyone asked.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ward had gone to work through his frustrations the way he always did: by punching things. He was engaged in a heated sparring session with May, whose only sign that she was growing more tired and weak was the sweat on her forehead and the rapid, shallow, breaths she was taking. 

 

He dodged a kick to his stomach, taking hold of her leg and using his upper body strength to get her in a position where her only option was to fall, bringing him down on top of her. She collapsed onto the mats with him following shortly after, both sweaty and panting. 

 

“She’s just a kid,” Ward said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

 

All May did was nod, but that was enough. 

 

She got to her feet and extended a hand to help Ward up, which he took graciously. They went their separate ways: her to the showers and him to the kitchen. 

 

Once he got there, he ran into Fitz, who was holding a large bowl of popcorn in his left arm while he held a book on quantum mechanics in his right and was seemingly on his way out. 

 

“Let me help you with that.” Ward tore a piece of paper off the magnetic pad of paper on the fridge and stuck it in the book, which he then helped Fitz tuck between his left arm and his side so he had a free hand for eating the popcorn on his way to the common area. 

 

Jemma walked in shortly after Fitz left, her nose also buried in a book, though hers was a well-worn copy of  _ The Great Gatsby _ . She set it down on the counter with the spine up and rifled through the fridge. Someone had eaten her celery, and that was almost the only thing she would eat since it was comprised of nearly nothing but fiber and water. She rushed out, trying her best to conceal how much that had set her off. 

 

_ They did that on purpose. You don’t even deserve the celery; it’ll just make you fat. They know it, and they’re trying to help you. What’s the point? You’re so fat. You’re wasting so much energy that could be put back into the universe as something useful, not a gigantic screw-up like you.  _

 

Ward went after her, not all surprised to find her curled up on the floor, her knees to her chest, sobbing and trembling. He got down next to her and pulled her into her arms, enveloping her in his warm embrace. He squeezed her tightly and started rocking her gently, simply letting her cry it out. 

 

After a few minutes of them staying like that, Jemma calmed down enough to begin apologizing. “I-I’m sorry.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. 

 

Noting the bandages on her knuckles, Ward took ahold of her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Tell me what that was about, please.” 

 

She froze and pulled her hand away quickly, knowing he’d seen. Her mind started racing, and she couldn’t help but begin shaking again. 

 

“Or not. You don’t have to talk. It’s okay.” 

 

She gave up and collapsed into his arms, crying so hard that she couldn’t keep her breathing at a steady rhythm. 

 

It was there that Skye found them, and she took over comforting her best friend by helping her to bed and tucking her in. “Sleep on it. Everything’s worse when you’re tired, Simmons.” She turned out her light and gave the sleepy woman a small smile. 


	7. (I’ll come up with one later don’t @ me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma gets tubed. Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so dark guys I’m so sorry wow

When Jemma woke up, she was nestled up against the wall with a heavy quilt over her body. She groaned softly and stretched before wrapping her slender fingers around her bony wrist, sighing in relief when they reached around with plenty of overlap. She got up with a small wince, the joints in her legs cracking. 

She went into the bathroom and scrutinized her features before stepping into the shower. She relaxed under the steaming hot spray while she washed up, taking inventory of the various bruises she had. Her knees were varying shades of purple and blue, and her wrists had a small one from where she’d repeatedly wrap her fingers around it and push in to try and make them overlap even further. 

She ran her fingers through her hair to work the conditioner in and then let it sit while she went about exfoliating and washing her body. When she’d finished that, she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and shampooed it. She took a moment to rest her head against the wall and catch her breath. Between the heat of the shower and how fragile her body had become over the past few months, she was extremely light-headed.

The last thing she remembered before she crumpled to the floor was a knocking at the door. She came to a couple of minutes later wrapped in a fluffy towel and having her hair played with comfortingly. She turned around to see who it was and was surprised to see May. The older woman gave her the smallest possible smile she could manage and let her rest a bit more before helping her to her feet. 

“Really, May, you didn’t have to do that. I’m quite alright, I swear. I just had the water a bit too warm.” 

May rolled her eyes and set out a pair of sweatpants and an old tee shirt for her to change into. She gave her some privacy to change and then sat on the bed next to her, rubbing her back gently. “You need to eat.” She left no room for argument, and she got up and took Jemma’s hand to help her balance as she gained her bearings. 

 

“No.” 

May cocked an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, keeping a firm grip on her hand as she led her down to the kitchen. Ward was there, whipping up what appeared to be a batch of rice krispie treats. 

Jemma washed her hands and dove right into helping Ward make frosting for the tops since that was the only way Fitz, Skye, and Coulson would eat them. She really got into it, which wasn’t surprising as she loved to bake. 

Coulson walked in just as the pan was being placed in the oven and touched Jemma gently on her shoulder. She flinched and jumped up, looking spooked. 

“Sir! You snuck up on me!” She laughed nervously and looked up at him. “What do you need?” 

“Just to check in with you. Could we go down to the lab and talk?” 

“Of course.” She led him down to the lab, where he had her sit down across from him. 

He loosened his tie and leaned back in his seat as he watched her settle in. She had her legs crossed at the knee, right over left, and her hands resting in her lap, one clasped in the slender, bony, fingers of the other. 

“I think that we need to make a stop at the Hub. You and Fitz could use a session with your advisor. I know that being on a plane, away from the lab, and in close quarters with people you still don’t know well is hard for you two.” 

“Thank you, sir. I know that this adjustment has been tough for Fitz, though I myself am alright.” 

They landed at the Hub and Fitz and Skye were placed in charge of finding a way to trick Jemma into going down to the medical bay. They managed to do it by telling her that one of the professors needed help organizing some of the supplies and taking inventory so she could take what she needed for her cadaver lab the following week. When she got there, she quickly deduced that she’d been misled. “What’s going on? Fitz? Skye?” 

“Jemma, this is for your own good.” Fitz’s voice broke as he spoke, one of his hands reaching to grasp her arm and keep her from trying to escape. 

“No, no. Please don’t. I don’t want this. I’m fine, I promise. You all just need to stay out of this. I can handle it on my own!” She got progressively more hysterical until Skye wrapped her in a tight hug and held her close. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We just want to help. This is how you get better, okay?” She whispered and wiped Jemma’s tears away gently. 

She continued to cry while they led her to an examination table and sat with her. She buried her face in Fitz’s neck as the doctor unpackaged a lot of supplies. 

“Hello, Dr. Simmons. I’m Dr. Anderson. I’m assuming you know why you’re here and what your next course of treatment is?” 

“Unfortunately,” the Brit grumbled and kept her face buried in Fitz’s neck. 

“So you know that I’ll be inserting a nasogastric feeding tube? Your friends are welcome to stay, though I understand if you don’t want them to. This is going to be pretty uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt. If it does, tell me immediately.” She pulled her gloves on, measured the distance from Jemma’s ear to her nose across her cheek, dipped the end of the tube in what appeared to be Vaseline, and then turned to face the trio. “I need you to angle your chin up for me, which means you’ll have to remove yourself from Dr. Fitz,” she said sympathetically and gave Simmons a sad smile. 

Jemma did as she was told, still clinging tightly to Fitz while Skye held both of their free hands in her own, rubbing her thumbs over their knuckles. 

She tipped her head back and flinched when Dr. Anderson started to insert the tube. She winced when she felt it hit the back of her throat and squeezed her friends’ hands. Dr. Anderson stopped and handed Jemma a glass of water, instructing her to drink it to make the rest of the process easier. 

Jemma started crying again once the tube was fully inserted. It was taped to her cheek and then tucked behind her ear, and she’d never felt more hideous in her entire life. Even the time when she’d spilled chemicals on herself in the lab and given herself a blotchy red rash, complete with itching and oozing, hadn’t been as dreadful as this. 

Dr. Anderson removed her gloves and threw them away, keeping watch on her patient the entire time. “Just a few more things and then you’ll be on your merry way, Dr. Simmons.” She tried to put as much cheer into that as it could, but it sounded about as authentic as the blood used in horror films. “You’re going to have to stay on base for a few weeks until we can be sure that you won’t develop refeeding syndrome, which is potentially fatal. Also, a nurse will come find you in the lab in about an hour and then two hours after that to flush your tube with water so it’s ready to be used tonight. Any questions?” 

Jemma coughed and had another sip of water while she tried to get used to the feeling of the tube in the back of her throat. “Just a few. Will I have a pump or will I be trapped with an IV pole for the next month? And how long do I have to have this thing in for?” 

“Both are excellent questions. You’ll have a pump, and the nurse will give you that tonight when she hooks you up. You’ll stay in here for the next couple of days once you’re hooked up as we get you up to your goal rate of 26 milliliters per hour, just, again, as a precaution against refeeding syndrome.” Dr. Anderson grabbed the portable ultrasound and had Jemma lay down after she made Fitz and Skye move, quickly checking the placement of the tube to ensure that it was in the right place before sending all three of them on their way. 

As soon as they’d left the infirmary, Jemma found herself being wrapped in a tight hug by Skye. She gingerly ran her fingers over where the tube hung behind her friend’s ear and grimaced. “How about we do something to cheer you up? We could go watch something back on the plane?” She suggested, “I know you’re a sucker for the tenth doctor.” 

She smiled ever so slightly and pulled away from the hug to look up at her. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.” 

Fitz went off to work in one of the smaller labs on base while the girls lounged on the couches in front of the television to start the season. Jemma wrapped herself in a quilt she’d gotten from her mum and sat with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin tucked between her knees. 

A knock on the doorframe startled them both, and Jemma flinched visibly. A shorter woman with cornrows pulled up into a bun and light blue scrubs entered the room and took a seat on Jemma’s left. “Do you want to do this here? Or would you prefer to do this down in the lab or the restroom?” 

Jemma considered her options for a moment. “Here is fine. Do you need me to stand up?” 

“No, just tip your head back. I’m going to push a couple saline flushes through the tube to get it ready for the formula, which I’ll give you in about two and a half hours once we get back to the infirmary.” She rifled through her bag and pulled out an absorbing pad, set it on the couch next to her, and set the saline flushes on top of it. “This might be a little cold, but it shouldn’t be too bad. Just try and breathe through it.” She undid the cap on the syringe and began to push the plunger down after inserting the tip into the visible end of the tube. 

Jemma closed her eyes and got goosebumps at the feeling of the cool liquid going through her tube. 

“One more and then you two can go back to your show. Deep breath for me.” She pushed the other saline flush and then wrapped the empty syringes in the pad she’d set on the couch. “I’ll come get you in about two hours, and then you’ll be stuck in the infirmary for a couple of days. After we’re sure you won’t get refeeding syndrome, you’ll be free to go and resume your daily activities.” 

After re-wrapping herself in her quilt, Jemma wrapped her thumb and index finger around her wrist to rub over the bones there. Skye reached out and gently separated her fingers before lacing them with her own; she touched the bandages on her knuckles and gave her a sympathetic look. “You need to stop doing that. You’re gonna have scars.” 

“Already do, so what’s the point?” She joked. 

“Not funny, Simmons. This is serious. I know you don’t see that, but it is. We’re all worried sick about you.” 

“There’s no need to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.” She pulled her hand away and wrapped the quilt tighter around her shoulders. 

Skye backed off and resumed the episode of Doctor Who that they’d been watching, which settled her friend down quite a bit. They both fell asleep that way and woke up when the nurse came back to take Jemma down to the infirmary. 

“You’ll be back here in no time, Dr. Simmons. I promise.” The nurse smiled and carried Jemma’s duffle bag with her things in it to the med bay for her.


End file.
